


Texts From the Archives

by DustToDust



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Gen, Texts From Last Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: Drabble series mixing TMA with TFLN in a way that follows no timeline or canon. Except for when it does.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. I dk what to do with this kid he is like legitimately interested in my life.

**Author's Note:**

> I would normally claim a series like this crack, but the first one I finished has too much seriousness in it to be total crack. I follow no timeline and only loosely regard canon in this fic. Think of it as the light hearted laugh one might need in between screaming in horror over what’s happening.

~

**(516): I dk what to do with this kid he is like legitimately interested in my life.**

~

“Talk to him,” Georgie says as if it’s as simple as that. 

“About what?” Jon shifts the phone and lets his fingers run down the page of the file he’s brought home. Against policy but who’s going to chastise the head archivist over that? It’s a nice little perk of the job that almost makes up for the massive amount of organizing he’s been left with.

“Your life, you did say he’s actually interested in you, right?” Georgie asks with a sly lilt to her voice that Jon hates. It’s the same one she uses when trying to get him to go out for drinks or lunch with a ‘friend’ of hers that Georgie will somehow manage to squirm out of the day of. Leaving Jon to awkwardly maneuver his way through a badly set up blind date.

“In my _life_ Georgie,” Jon rolls his eyes, comforted in the fact that she’ll somehow know what he’s doing even if she can’t see it. “That’s just the way Martin is. He’s clumsy, anxious, and an absolute terror to institutional organization, but,” Jon grudgingly has to give the idiot credit for one thing, “he’s a genuinely nice man.”

Georgie makes a judgmental noise that is absolutely unwarranted.

“It’s true!” Jon protests, giving up on the file. He won’t be reading it until one of them hangs up anyway. “He’s interested in everyone’s life. Asks how our days are going and honestly remembers our responses from day to day. It’s...odd. I don’t know what to do with that.”

Jon doesn’t make it a habit to associate with complete assholes but there’s a rather large percentage of academics that are assholish. Either due to nature or the hellish environment of universities. Jon fully counts himself among those numbers. He knows he’s an utter bastard, he was one even before he settled on a course of study. So he’s used to dealing with cynicism, sarcasm, and even outright hostility in his day to day dealings with people. Enough so that Martin Blackwood with his seemingly endless optimism and cheerful words is throwing him off a bit.

“Talk to him,” Georgie repeats evenly as if she hasn’t already said this same line five or six times already. “Ask about his life and be the social person I know you can be. It’s been a while since you’ve made a friend.”

“I have friends!” Jon reminds her.

“No one from University counts,” Georgie says and then continues before he can say any more. “ _I_ introduced you to Melanie and Basira,” Jon opens his mouth to speak and is again cut off. “And I don’t count people who’ve tried to kill you on introduction as friends so that rules out Daisy, Gerry, and Michael.”

Jon bites his tongue on a poorly timed _Which one?_ that tries to slip out of his mouth. “W-well, there’s, uh, Tim?”

“Didn’t you try to bash his head in with a fire extinguisher?”

“I _thought_ he was breaking in!” Jon defends his actions. He was in the right that time no matter how many times anyone might insinuate otherwise. “It was two in the morning and he was using a lighter to skulk about. Anyone would’ve thought he was a robber or arsonist or _something_!”

“Right, and what were _you_ doing at work at two AM again, Jon?” Georgie asks in a sweet and innocent voice.

“I was- look, it doesn’t matter what I was doing, we got past that minor mishap,” Jon doubts he’s the only man in the world to begin a friendship with Tim Stoker that way either. 

“Hm, no, I don’t think that counts,” Georgie declares. “The Admiral agrees with me, don’t you pretty kitty?”

Jon listens for a few minutes as Georgie sweet talks the cat and lets himself miss it all for a moment. The soft couch with hand sewn quilt, a battered table they found next to --but not in-- a dumpster, and the Admiral stretched out between them belly up for whoever had a free hand for skritches. That warmth and closeness was something he’d never really had before or since. They’d formed their own little self-sufficient world away from reality and that had not turned out to be what either of them truly needed in the end.

Understandable, as the two of them make better friends than anything else. Better crutches too as Georgie likes to remind him from time to time when they’ve spent too long on the phone with each other in silence. Not hanging up even when the only thing they had to offer the other was the sound of their own breathing. 

He misses it, misses _them_ but it’s an abstract thing now. More missing the companionship than Georgie herself, and he has zero doubt in his mind that the woman hasn’t deliberately invoked that feeling in him with her aside to the Admiral. Reminding him of the possible gains to being ‘social’ despite his reluctance.

“You play a dirty game,” Jon grouses when he can’t hear the faint rumble of purrs anymore.

“Jon,” Georgie says, voice soft and concerned enough he almost doesn’t mind the very obvious manipulation that’s just happened. “Talk to this Martin, or what’s your other assistant’s name?”

“Sasha,” Jon provides grudgingly. 

“Sasha then, or someone. Anyone really. Just try to make some friends for yourself. Please?”

“Fine,” Jon capitulates as he almost always does. “Fine, I’ll try.”

He can’t guarantee any specific outcome, but Georgie never asks him for more than she knows he can give. And Jon will always try his best when she asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts From Last Night is a site that collects text messages people send in moments of hilarity/drunkenness/embarrassment etc. The numbers in parenthesis are area codes, and I use the text as it was presented on the website. I am guilty of using this site to kick start my writing too much.


	2. Last time Jon threw a party I woke up on my porch, no shirt but 4 bras on, and "make better life choices" written on my stomach in sharpie

~

**(440): Last time Jon threw a party I woke up on my porch, no shirt but 4 bras on, and "make better life choices" written on my stomach in sharpie**

~

"Clearly, you did not take the advice given," Jon says without looking up from the file he's paging through.

“Maybe I will when you write it on my performance review,” Tim responds and considers the pile his boss has so kindly dropped on his desk. None of them look particularly important. Just the regular manila folder types. No blood spatter, suspicious stain, or foul odor from any of them which means he can push them off till after lunch.

“I have,” Jon tucks the folder under his arm. “Multiple times already and I can believe that I will continue to write it down in the future.”

“Well, I don’t know why you thought using permanent marker would make me mind it any better then,” Tim twists back to face Martin who looks deeply concerned and a little envious. “Honestly, don’t go. This bastard has the liver of a demon and he _will_ remember every little thing you’ll wind up becoming a future alcoholic to forget.”

The concern sharpens into actual alarm as Martin is a smart enough man to imagine the kinds of things he might do or _say_ when drunk with his coworkers. If it were anyone else offering the invitation he might have been spared. Sadly, it’s not anyone else asking, and Tim knows he’s watching a man march to his doom. His lovesick, inevitably humiliating doom.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Martin is quick to say when Jon’s eyes flick over to him. “I don’t even really drink that much.”

Tim salutes solemnly and Jon sighs again. “Honestly, Tim, if you have such a poor view of my ‘parties’ then stop coming.”

“And miss all the fun?” Tim laughs. “Not on your life, Archivist.”


End file.
